


Reasonable Force

by fengirl88



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Gen, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fengirl88/pseuds/fengirl88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Serves you right, you prat,” Lestrade says, glaring at the familiar dark-haired figure lying in a heap at the top of 221b's stairs.  “Honestly, what did you <i>expect</i>?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <b>[Spoilers for the trailer of S3 Ep 01]</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	Reasonable Force

**Author's Note:**

  * For [warriorbot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/warriorbot/gifts).



> A late birthday present for Warriorbot; happy belated birthday to her!

“Serves you right, you prat,” Lestrade says, glaring at the familiar dark-haired figure lying in a heap at the top of 221b's stairs. “Honestly, what did you _expect_?”

Wasting his breath, obviously. Sherlock wouldn't listen even if he was conscious. Never does. Never _did_.

Just as well the stupid fucker hadn't tried sneaking up on Watson like that: he'd be lucky to escape with his life. Again. Watson will probably try to throttle him as it is, when he finds out Sherlock's back from the dead.

Lestrade's quite tempted to have a go himself, but he doesn't fancy doing a stretch for GBH. The last two years have been tough enough without that.

“Sorry I screamed, dear,” Mrs Hudson says. “But really, what was I supposed to think, a strange man lurking in the shadows like that?”

Too bloody right, Lestrade thinks.

“Are you sure you won't have a brandy? Did me the world of good.”

Lestrade shakes his head; he wants to have his wits about him when Sherlock finally comes round.

Meanwhile, he pulls out his phone and takes a snapshot. Probably nothing ever _will_ cure Sherlock of being theatrical, but if anything could it's this: the world's only consulting detective, mistaken for a burglar and knocked out cold by his ex-landlady with a well-aimed saucepan to the bonce.


End file.
